Rooms Without Names

Caught my reflection in a storefront light

Didn’t look wrong, didn’t look right

Just a film that I’ve watched a hundred times

Where the ending fades before the crime

Tried to call but forgot what to say

Hung up on ghosts from yesterday

There’s a note in my coat from a friend I outgrew

That says “you never let go, but you never hold true”

And I walk through these rooms without names

Where the pictures fall crooked in hand-me-down frames

Every mirror just lies in a softer tone

Like “you’re not too far gone, just too far alone”

All of my heroes died half-awake

With a joke in their throat and a past they faked

I write songs in the cracks of a spiral-bound mind

Then forget every word by the end of the line

And the city don’t change, it just swallows you slow

Til you talk like the traffic and move like the snow

There’s a girl at the corner who hums in the rain

And her voice sounds like mercy—but it might be pain

So I walk through these rooms without names

Tracing dust like it mattered, but I’m just the same

Every truth that I knew now just feels rehearsed

Like a secret I whispered but heard in reverse

And maybe tomorrow I’ll try again

To believe in the sky or remember a friend

But tonight I just sit with the quiet and cold

Fold my thoughts into paper and do what I’m told

I walk through these rooms without names

Where the walls hum the chords of forgotten refrains

And I hum along too, though I don’t know why

Some things you don’t sing, you just sigh